


Friends & Fine Wine

by jumponvaljean (whoatherejavert)



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: (-ish because Javert is a ninny), Jealousy, M/M, Madeleine Era, Rivalry, Slight AU: Established Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoatherejavert/pseuds/jumponvaljean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For iloveflad on tumblr. Prompt from Valvert Gift Exchange:  A stranger, perhaps a gentleman or bourgeoisie, comes to M-sur-M and falls in love with the fine mayor. Of course, this being the 19th century, he kept his attentions discreet and secretly tries to win the mayor’s heart. Javert, observant man that he is, notices and get really angry at this, and not because homosexuality is wrong. He finds himself trying to upstage all of this gentleman’s attempts to gain Madeleine’s affections, and takes to badmouthing said gentleman in front of the mayor. Madeleine never even realized that the gentleman made advances towards him, only thinking of him as a friend, and is understandably upset at his inspector’s negative reports on his friend. The rivalry and the entire situation escalates, and Madeleine is just really confused at it all, because he had no idea why his new friend and his loyal inspector hate each other so much. No Nsfw because prompter is underage, fanfic preferred. </p><p>Hopefully this is to your taste, prompter, and thanks for the fun prompt!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends & Fine Wine

The morning is crisp with a cool breeze stirring in earnest and Inspector Javert cannot help but to imagine the chill easing with every step closer he takes to the office of Monsieur le maire. His report will be met with its usual offer of tea, which he will politely decline, but he will find no pressing need to object when the filled cup is handed to him with a smile. And if he finds his own lips twitch in response, what of it?

It is simply the way of things.

He reaches the end of the staircase and raises a hand to knock on the door but pauses. Monsieur Madeleine is not alone in his office. Javert frowns, though he has little time to examine the stranger before M. le maire has spied him through the glass and beckoned him inside.  
  
"Ah, Inspector," he greets out of habit as Javert enters the room; then lower, warmer, "Javert."  
  
The chill of the morning is quite forgotten as the inspector inclines his head, hat held respectfully under his arm. "Monsieur le maire," and then, as the stranger turns in his seat to appraise Javert the intruder - and yes, _intruder_ , the word is somehow fitting; prompted by the fleeting irritation that passes the man's expression, the slight frown that mars an otherwise soft brow - he adds a further polite nod, "Monsieur."  
  
"Monsieur Vallière," Madeleine provides, smiling between the two men. The name seems familiar though for the moment Javert cannot quite place it. He remains silent as the mayor introduces him, choosing only to nod once more at the still-seated gentleman. "This is Inspector Javert."  
  
Monsieur Vallière does not offer his hand to shake. Instead, Javert is subjected to an appraising glance and a raised eyebrow before he turns back to speak to Madeleine over the desk.  
  
"Please," he says, his voice low, "Emil, I insist."  
  
"Emil is taking over his late father's vineyards," Madeleine explains to Javert, and the name falls into place. Of course. The inspector vaguely remembers a mention of the senior M. Vallière's recent passing from another officer.  
  
"My condolences," offers Javert perfunctorily, his mind working at recalling the remainder of the brief conversation. He glances at Vallière as he does so; the man is younger than him by perhaps just less than a dozen of years, slight but well built, his hair slicked neatly and his clothes well cut.  
  
A casual shrug precedes Vallière's response and the movement is elegant despite its nonchalance. His light eyes move quickly over Javert's face once more. "They are unnecessary, though I appreciate the thought. There was little love lost between my father and I." He gives a small laugh and waves away the sympathetic noise Madeleine makes, once more turning away from Javert. "A mere fact, alas, I seek no pity. It has been some amount of years since I have been back in Montreuil."  
  
Madeleine tilts his head as though inviting the man to speak on, though the final comment weighs heavily in Javert's mind. He frowns; the memory of the full conversation with his fellow officer is still irritatingly vague.  
  
"I hope you will find it to your taste, then."  
  
At this comment Vallière leans closer, placing a hand on the mayor's desk and sharing a wide smile that Javert is not offered.  
  
"I am almost certain I will," he assures the mayor in a tone that assures Javert of nothing. There is something too warm in it, too soft, and though the memory is elusive he is sure of one thing: Emil Vallière should not smile in such a fashion at Monsieur le maire. Javert debates whether to clear his throat when the problem is solved for him.  
  
"But forgive me, Monsieur," Vallière begins, glancing once at Javert and rising to his feet in a fluid gesture that showcases his compact frame and fine clothing. The colours are bright and fashionable and the shined buttons rival even those of Javert's own uniform. "I have already taken too much of your time. I only wished to present myself, for I had heard so much about you."  
  
On the other side of the desk, Madeleine rises to take his offered hand, hushing his apology. "All good things, I trust," he says as he does so.  
  
Under Javert's watchful gaze, Emil Vallière shakes the mayor's hand.  
  
"All good things," he confirms. His voice is too soft. His smile is too wide. He holds the mayor's hand for too long.  
  
This time Javert does clear his throat.  
  
Vallière takes his leave after a hurried farewell. Madeleine closes the door behind him and turns to his inspector with a smile.  
  
"A nice fellow, don't you think, Javert?" He does not wait for a response, bustling over to prepare tea. "Quite charming."  
  
Javert makes a small non-committal noise. It would seem that the Emil Vallière, with his too wide smile and too soft words, is to be another undeserving beneficiary of M. le maire's lauded charity. He can only hope the family's extensive vineyards keep the man busy. He places a stack of papers on the mayor's desk as he moves into Vallière's vacated chair and attempts to steer the morning into more familiar territory.  
  
"The report is less charming, I am afraid."  
  
Madeleine places a steaming teacup before him.   
  
"Then we shall take tea with it," the mayor says as he moves to sit before him. His voice is soft and his smile wide, but to neither this nor the hot tea does Javert find any reason to object.

 

* * *

  
  
The weeks that follow are uneventful for the most part. It seems that Javert is granted his wish; the Vallière vineyards are a bustle of new activity and their owner goes unseen. However, he does not go unheard, or at least unheard of - Javert is not usually a man for whom rumour holds much interest, but Montreuil-sur-Mer is a small enough town that Emil Vallière's return provokes a certain amount of idle chatter.  
  
What he hears only confirms his distaste for the gentleman. The rumours talk of an indulgent youth, a whispered scandal, and a quick removal from the town. Indeed, it is hinted that the late Monsieur Vallière left no will and the man's inheritance and subsequent return is attained through this oversight alone. Javert hears the last from a disgruntled employee of the vineyards; he listens to it with a raised eyebrow and a feeling of justification in his assessment.  
  
The man is a reprobate, a scoundrel, a degenerate... and his eager smile is an all too clear memory.  
  
And perhaps it is this memory alone that prompts Javert to speak out one evening, as his eyes fall upon a new item on the mayor's desk.  
  
"I'm told his father sent him away before," the inspector says suddenly.  
  
Madeleine, patting the lapels of his coat flat against his chest, barely looks up. "Hmm?" He reaches for his top hat, making ready to join Javert on his patrol as per their weekly custom.  
  
"Vallière." Javert moves towards the new wine bottle that has held his eye since his arrival, the familiar scrollwork on the label a clear mark of its origins. An odd discontent rises in him as he picks the bottle up, though he tries to keep it from his tone when he speaks. "He gave you this?"  
  
A smile crosses Madeleine's face. "Emil, yes. It was a gift."  
  
The name sounds too familiar on his tongue for Javert's liking. He frowns.  
  
"There are many in this town who do not say his name so fondly," he comments as he tips the bottle to the light. The colour of the wine is dark and rich.  
  
"Would you count yourself among them?" returns Madeleine evenly. When Javert glances back he sees the mayor is adjusting his cravat, and his expression holds only honest interest. He sighs a little at Javert's own expression - the petulant annoyance the inspector knows he has not hidden quite as fully as he perhaps should - and shakes his head exasperatedly. "Honestly, Javert, you look upon that bottle like you suspect it to be poison. Emil is a fine young man."  
  
"Forgive me," he begins, though the sentiment lacks sincerity. "I meant no offence." He turns the bottle in his hands once more before setting it back down. "In any case, you will not like it."  
  
The exasperation gives way to a gentle humour that Javert appreciates far more. "Oh?"  
  
"A poor choice of year," he shrugs. "Too young. It will be tart."  
  
Javert's knowledge of wine is rudimentary at best, but he prides himself on his knowledge of the mayor's tastes.  
  
In wine, of course.  
  
The smile Madeleine gives him is one born of an exasperated fondness; familiar and genuine. He shakes his head and opens the door for his inspector to pass through.  
  
Javert wonders idly if Emil Vallière has yet earned that smile and the thought does not please him.

 

* * *

  
  
"Inspector!"  
  
Javert turns at the cry to find that the young man hurrying towards him, one hand at the brim of his hat to keep it steady, is none other than Emil Vallière. He groans inwardly, and his bow is shallow and quick.  
  
"M'sieur," he greets, politely enough, coming to a halt as Vallière reaches his side.  
  
It is the first time they have met since the time in Madeleine's office, some weeks ago now, yet already those light eyes are roving over him. Vallière hesitates before replying, breaths slightly heavy.  
  
"Bon matin, Inspector. You are heading to speak with Monsieur le maire?"  
  
The tone of the greeting is less than warm, but the question is hopeful. He nods stiffly.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
Vallière seems to expect more to be said, so there is a moment of silence as a crease forms between his brows and his eyes dart to meet Javert's. His mouth hangs slightly open as his breathing returns to normal.  
  
"Might I join you?" he finally asks, and Javert longs to refuse but finds he has no real power to do such a thing.  
  
"I cannot stop you," he responds truthfully.  
  
The excitement on Vallière's face is clear as he falls into step with the inspector's own pace. Javert avoids looking at him.  
  
"Forgive me, Inspector," begins Vallière after a brief silence. "But have I wronged you?"  
  
Javert frowns at the question and glances at the younger man. He radiates what seems to be an honest perplexity, but there is a slight quirk at the edge of his mouth and his eyes are calculating - Javert shakes his head irritably before replying.  
  
"No, monsieur."  
  
Vallière purses his lips, again with affected innocence. "Yet you do not seem particularly taken with me, I fear."  
  
Javert stops and turns to regard the young man. He notes the new coat, the rakish angle of his hat and once again, those damnably shiny buttons. Vallière waits for a reply.  
  
"I mean no offense, Monsieur," he says carefully, knowing full well it is not his place to pass judgement on those above him and, furthermore, those whom the mayor looks upon kindly. "My duty is a friendless one."  
  
The final sentence is offered with a quirk of his head and a brief, wry pull of his lips that is very much not a smile. He is mindful not to deny the accusation outright. Let the gentleman, if he is as astute as he appears to be, rise to the challenge presented.  
  
"I see." Vallière appears to think this answer over in his head, and it is not until Javert has begun moving again that he continues. "You are friends with the mayor, though," he observes quietly.  
  
Javert does not stop moving, and he knows by the slight stumble that Vallière makes behind him that this is unexpected. He does not even turn.  
  
"I am under his command," he corrects.  
  
When Vallière reaches his side once more he shoots him a carefully blank look that somehow dares him to make more of the statement. Either the man does not see it or he ignores it.  
  
They speak no more until they reach the factory. At the steps, Vallière rests a hand on Javert's arm before he can enter.  
  
"Wait, please."  
  
Javert stares at the hand on his arm until it is removed.  
  
"If I might ask," Vallière pauses, glances upwards to the factory's windows. "Madeleine is unmarried?"  
  
To this, Javert gives him a long, slow look.  
  
"To my knowledge," is all he says. It is grudging; he does not like the tone of the question.  
  
Emil Vallière grins brightly. "I have enjoyed my talk with you, inspector."  
  
He cannot echo the sentiment. Vallière turns and sets off back down the street, and the sudden change prompts Javert to call after him.  
  
"Monsieur— you are not—?" He gestures toward the door of the factory and Vallière shakes his head.  
  
"Oh, no, inspector. I am sure you have important business." The grin is still there. "I shall return another time, perhaps."  
  
Alone, is the unspoken implication. The idea is not a welcome one.  
  
Javert enters the factory and immediately accepts the tea that is offered when he reaches the office. His eyes linger more than once on the wine bottle still perched on the mayor's desk.

When Madeleine tells him he seems distracted, he tears his gaze from the bottle and apologises but his interest has already been noted.  
  
"Emil tells me the wine will be fresher for its youth," Madeleine comments lightly.  
  
The mayor means well, he knows, and is merely making conversation. Nevertheless the statement and all that it implies lends a bitter taste to Javert's mouth which is more than apparent in his tone as well. He shifts in his seat and neatens the edge of the papers in his lap.  
  
"Then perhaps the two of you should find something to toast," he suggests sullenly.  
  
He leaves soon after and pretends he does not see the question in Madeleine's eyes.

 

* * *

  
When the next evening he finds himself standing at the factory door with a bottle of wine (an earlier year from a different vineyard, smooth and full in flavour according to the merchant) in his hand and an apology on his tongue, Javert feels incredibly foolish. He takes no pride in his vindictive behaviour, his disrespect, or the thought that the mere mention of Emil Vallière is enough to incite such reactions in him. His frown is deep when he makes his way to the office.  
  
It deepens further when he reaches the stairs. He hears a soft peal of laughter and then Vallière appears at the top of the staircase, smiling.  
  
"Monsieur, you are..." He stops short at the sight of Javert, before an odd sort of grin throws itself across his features. "Monsieur, you have a visitor."  
  
He hears Madeleine's questioning hum before the mayor's head appears around the doorway.  
  
"Javert?"  
  
The surprise is clear in his tone. Javert stands with one hand on the railing and the other curled around the wine bottle's neck, hanging heavy at his side. Immediately, Madeleine turns to Vallière. 

Javert does not miss the triumph on the young man's features as he looks down at the awkward inspector. "Emil, please," comes Madeleine's soft voice, "Excuse us a moment. If you would—"

Javert, despite himself, almost laughs at the expression on Emil's face as Madeleine points him back into the office and pointedly closes the door behind him. However, he merely looks at his feet and awaits Madeleine's next words.  
  
"I did not think I would see you today," says Madeleine as he descends the stairs. His gait is even, unhurried, but he stops short a few steps from the bottom. Javert is not sure how to take the statement nor how to read the odd expression on the mayor's face. Here, now, he is sure of nothing.  
  
"I came to apologise," he begins eventually, glancing away. "That is— I was rude— Here, I have..." He lifts the bottle slightly, offers it to Madeleine. "An apology."  
  
The wine seems like a silly choice now that he is here and Emil Vallière stands in the room above them. Madeleine and he are not equals as the gift might suggest, though the mayor's easy charm makes that fact easy to forget. But still - he has wronged the mayor, wronged a superior, and to bring him wine - he curses Vallière for the thought - he has wronged further. The feeling of ineptitude strengthens his tone, and he continues.  
  
"But you are occupied, I will go." His gaze flickers to the door of the office. "I had not thought—"  
  
He has already half turned when he feels the weight of a hand on his arm. Javert looks up into Madeleine's face. He is smiling. The affection is gentle and undeserved.  
  
"No, Javert. Emil has had some trouble with his accounts - we were trying to decipher some records." He waves the thought away, dismisses it, and holds Javert's gaze. "No, I am glad to see you." The hand on his arm tightens a little, before loosening off. "I feared I had offended you somehow."  
  
"M'sieur," Javert feels honestly aggrieved at the thought. "M'sieur, no. You could not— the fault is mine."  
  
Still smiling, Madeleine shakes his head. "There are few faults unforgivable between friends, Javert."  
  
He cannot speak. Luckily Madeleine is not finished.  
  
"You are on patrol?" At Javert's nod he claps the man on the shoulder and calls upstairs. "Emil!"  
  
From the mere seconds it takes the young man to open the door in response to his name, Javert knows he has been listening at the keyhole. However, he pays little heed to the notion - Madeleine's hand is still a warm weight on his shoulder and his words a happy echo in his ear.  
  
"We shall join the inspector for an evening stroll," Madeleine informs Vallière, as he comes down the stairs. The man smiles politely, though his eyes narrow when they note Madeleine's grip on Javert's shoulder.  
  
"That sounds lovely." His eyes drift to the wine bottle in the mayor's free hand and Madeleine follows his gaze.  
  
"Oh. I had forgotten— here, let me set this upstairs."  
  
He hurries up the steps before either of them can speak. Vallière glances coolly at Javert with raised eyebrows.  
  
" _Wine_?"  
  
Javert nods.  
  
"How very novel."  
  
The inspector does not rise to the bait. Madeleine appears back at the foot of the stairway with a wide smile. He spreads his hands between the two men.  
  
"Shall we?"  
  
Javert manages a quick upturn of his lips - for Madeleine, only for Madeleine - as he takes his place at the mayor's side and Vallière smiles, moving to the mayor's other side. They walk toward the door.  
  
It is wide enough, perhaps, for two men abreast, but three is somewhat too many.  
  
"After you," Javert mutters to Vallière.  
  
Vallière's smile is fixed.  
  
"Oh no, I insist. After you."  
  
The three of them stand at the door, both Javert and Vallière reluctant to leave their appointed places at the mayor's side. Eventually Madeleine's bark of laughter breaks the silence.  
  
"Gentlemen! Your manners commend you, but here—" He steps forward, still chuckling and passes through the doorway alone. "We could have been there all night."  
  
Vallière looks at Javert and Javert looks at Vallière before they both attempt to hurry, in the most casual manner that they can, through the door before the other.  
  
Javert reaches the mayor first and falls into step beside him. Madeleine, oblivious, comments happily on the balmy air.  
  
Catching Vallière's baleful glare in his direction, Javert presses the mayor's arm and murmurs his agreement. "A lovely night indeed."  
  
When the patrol is finished, Emil Vallière politely declines the offer to join them again. Madeleine does not miss the inspector's relief.  
  
"You are not fond of him," Madeleine states quietly after the younger man has bade farewell.  
  
Javert meets the mayor's gaze. "No," he confirms.  
  
A small sigh rewards his honesty.  
  
"Javert," begins Madeleine, but the inspector holds up a hand.  
  
"Pardon," he apologises. "It is no reflection on your friendship. Only," he pauses slightly. "You might do well to listen to his workers, M'sieur. I am not the only one who finds him difficult to admire."  
  
The mayor pulls a face. "His business skills are lacking, I suppose. But I believe he has a good heart. And he is eager to please."  
  
Javert, forgetting himself, snorts a little. "I do not doubt that."  
  
He receives a sharp look from the mayor but the comment goes unquestioned.  
  
They bid farewell warmly nonetheless. Madeleine thanks him for the wine, his hand resting at his shoulder for a brief moment.  
  
In that moment, Javert lets his thoughts linger on the question of what the mayor believes of his own heart.

 

* * *

  
  
Javert finds himself in the mayor's office the next morning. He notes that M. Madeleine has set his wine on the desk next to Emil's offering and the tiny flash of pride he takes in the fact that his own bottle stands slightly taller than Emil's is, even to his own mind, quite absurd.  
  
Still, both of the bottles remain untouched.

 

* * *

  
  
"This is unexpected," Madeleine says in surprise as he opens his office to a dripping inspector. "Here, let me—"  
  
Madeleine takes Javert's hat and shakes some of the rain from it, perching it atop the coat stand in the corner. The sudden rain showers have been the curse of the past week. Javert struggles out of his sodden greatcoat; a button on his wrist catches at the sleeve and he fights with it before Madeleine's hand intervenes, sliding the sleeve free.  
  
"You are in a rush this afternoon, Javert."  
  
"Ha!" Javert fixes his stiff collar before following Madeleine to sit down. "So is the weather."  
  
Madeleine's light chuckle is easy on the ear. He does not ask Javert if he would like tea, merely crosses to the fireplace and unhooks two cups.

"You have news?" he asks over his shoulder.  
  
Busy smoothing over his tunic, Javert hesitates before replying. "Of a sort," he replies.  
  
He sits back in his chair and his glance catches a few strips of straw on the floor at his feet; the mayor's office is usually so tidy and the mess makes him frown.  
  
"Have you had a horse up here?"  
  
Madeleine turns back, his face full of uncomprehending humour. He follows Javert's gesture and understanding dawns.  
  
"Oh - no," he laughs. "No, Emil asked me how to make dolls for the children."  
  
Javert hums quietly in disapproval. From what he has heard Vallière has little interest in children but he does not have to guess too hard to fathom the real intent behind the request. An excuse to spend more time with the mayor, perhaps, or an attempt to improve his character in the mayor's eyes. When he looks up Madeleine is smiling and talking animatedly, pointing toward some coconut shells on the desk and Javert realises that the mayor is actually impressed by the man's ploy. He also realises, belatedly, that he has been asked a question.  
  
"Would you like me to teach you?" Madeleine repeats.  
  
The inspector shakes his head. Let Vallière play his silly games, he thinks bitterly. He is welcome in the mayor's office without an excuse. Clearing his throat, he absent-mindedly wipes a little remaining moisture from one of his sleeve buttons.  
  
"I did not think your friend would have the time to make dolls," he comments in an off-hand tone. "I have heard there are difficulties with his business. That is why I came to see you."  
  
But of course Madeleine looks saddened when he passes Javert his tea. "Emil mentioned his worries," he admits as he stoops to pick up the discarded straw. "I had not realised they were common knowledge."  
  
"The foreman is unhappy," Javert explains. "Unhappy people talk."  
  
"He had not said that."  
  
Javert is unsurprised and he says as much.  
  
"There are other rumours," he adds. "I'm told he spends like a demon. The vineyard is not so fruitful as to allow it and the workers feel the pinch." Javert sets down his teacup and folds his arms across his chest. "He lacks his father's head for business."  
  
Madeleine's mouth twists worriedly; he plays with the straw in his hand.  
  
"I will speak to him, perhaps."  
  
The gentleness of the reply irritates Javert. The mayor has chosen to take Vallière under his wing and the man does nothing but throw it back in his face. The disrespect! The disregard! And that the mayor seems to do nothing but take it - Javert's indignation on Madeleine's behalf pushes him to his feet. Striding forward, he snatches the straw from Madeleine's hand and heads for the waste basket.  
  
"And you will no doubt have heard about his parties?" Javert spits the final word out over his shoulder as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.  
  
"I am invited to most of them," the mayor murmurs. He is staring at the floor as he speaks, but when he raises his head he catches Javert's eye and shakes his head sharply. "I do not _attend_ them, Javert."  
  
" _Well_." Javert huffs out this single word. "Well." He waves a hand vaguely in the air before a thought seems to strike him and he turns, rounding on the mayor. "The invite in itself is an insult - as if you would lower yourself to attend those—those—"  
  
"Have a care, inspector," warns Madeleine.  
  
It is not a tone Javert has heard from the mayor before, and that alone might be enough to quell the temper Javert has worked himself into were it not for its ill-use. Indeed, it galls the inspector to have such a tone pointed at him, Javert, here at the mayor's command and happy to be so. He snaps his mouth shut and swallows, hard, before he speaks next.  
  
"He was by the docks last night." His words are slow and deliberate. "Giving _alms_."  
  
Madeleine meets his gaze with some unknown expression.  
  
"I commend him for it."  
  
"He is only doing it," Javert responds through gritted teeth. "to win your favour."  
  
"Then he has won it," Madeleine responds immediately, raising his hands exasperatedly. The fleeting heat is gone from his rebuke now. "You know as well as I do that I have often urged the town's wealthier residents to give what they can spare. I am glad my words have not gone to waste."  
  
Javert grinds his heel into the floor. "Forgive me, M'sieur," he says finally, but his tone is snide, the insult unveiled. It is not an apology. "Forgive me, but I would speculate that he wishes to gain your favour for less charitable reasons."

The mayor's deep frown is to be expected by the lack of respect, but his words suggest only confusion. He eyes the inspector for a moment, standing proud and thin-lipped and still close to him, before he makes a soft appeal.  
  
"You have lost me, Javert."  
  
The inspector's mouth slackens a little and the temper appears sated, but his eyes are still hard when he finally replies.  
  
"Yes. I have."  
  
Javert lets out a long breath before he collects his coat and leaves. He does not look back.

 

* * *

  
  
His skin is cold and his outfit damp once more when he finally returns to his lodgings. With stiff fingers, he reaches beneath the pillow of his bed and draws out a rosary.  
  
The beads clack loudly against the floor when he flings it to the corner.

 

* * *

  
  
The next day he does not seek out the mayor.  
  
It does not surprise him, however, when a shadow appears at the door of the stables and a familiar voice calls his name.  
  
"Javert."  
  
Madeleine's voice sounds different but he fails to identify the change; his thoughts are otherwise occupied. Javert takes a steadying breath before he turns from brushing Gymont. He wears a simple shirt and trousers, dark and well worn but neat.  
  
"Monsieur le maire," he greets with a short bow. He takes another breath before continuing.  
  
"Here." He reaches into his pocket and takes out a sealed letter which he presses into Madeleine's hand. "Here is my letter of resignation. I have requested an immediate transfer if not outright dismissal. My uniform is at my lodgings. I will make ready for my journey out of Montreuil, as is right, M'sieur - you need only say the word. Indeed, you need say nothing at all, if you please, it will not matter. I have it all in hand. I will soon be gone. Say only that—"  
  
"You were right."  
  
Madeleine's voice cuts through Javert's babbling like the fall of an axe, though the words are soft. They take time to register.  
  
"M-M'sieur?"  
  
There is a strange look in M. Madeleine's dark eyes - not quite one emotion or another.  
  
"You were right," Madeleine repeats. "Last night, Emil tried..." One hand darts up to touch his lips; he looks away. "He asked, perhaps I did not see... or I had not thought..." He does not finish the sentence. "I am sorry, Javert."  
  
Without quite meeting his gaze, he presses the letter back into Javert's hands. His touch is lingering.  
  
"I do not accept your resignation, Inspector, nor ask you to take leave of Montreuil." His tone strengthens. "Retrieve your uniform and return to your station. I expect a report from you tonight."  
  
His hand closes about Javert's wrist loosely.  
  
"And no sooner would I dismiss you as a friend, Javert," he adds quietly."It would please me to see you tonight."  
  
After a quick glance at Javert's face, Madeleine steps back. He offers a last brief nod before he exits the stables.  
  
Javert stares after him, silent and unmoving until Gymont nudges at his hand and tries to eat the letter.

 

* * *

  
  
His uniform lies folded on the bed. The light streaming through the high window reflects brightly off the shined buttons and Javert spends a long moment focussing on the gleam before he starts suddenly, and then sighs, looking around the small room as if seeing it for the first time.  
  
He polishes the buttons again before he dons the uniform.  
  
As he adjusts his collar, there is a knock at the door.

 

* * *

  
  
It does not seem like such a far cry from his usual reports, in truth, when the day is over and he arrives at the mayor's office where he is ushered in immediately. The differences are subtle.  
  
They exchange pleasantries yet say nothing. The mayor asks if Javert will take tea and when he declines he does not pour him a cup. The inspector delivers the report without elaboration and the mayor listens, looks on, but does not interrupt.  
  
It is not until the final item on the report that Javert looks up. He clears his throat when he finds the mayor's eyes locked on his.  
  
"Vallière," he says. It is enough.  
  
The mayor inclines his head; Javert is to continue. He takes a deep breath.  
  
"My men caught him not far from town. We have not held him - the family will not press charges. The money was his to take, arguably, and they will not waste time with it. One more scandal is of little importance now. He will be sent back to the country, I have no doubt. And if you will not...?"  
  
Javert does not finish the question because he is not sure what he is even asking. Madeleine rises to his feet and walks over the the window.  
  
"I will not." His voice is slightly muffled and Javert realises that his fingers are pressed to his mouth.  
  
The inspector makes a note upon his report. "Very well." He makes to stand but Madeleine's voice stops him.  
  
"You must think me very foolish, Javert."  
  
Javert clasps his hands together as he sits back down. "I would be out of line to say so," he says carefully.  
  
"As an inspector, perhaps. Not as a friend."  
  
It is a difficult thing to reply to - the end to the Vallière situation is welcome but there is no victory to be had from it at Madeleine's expense. Perhaps if the mayor's optimism was less whole-hearted, or his belief in people less powerful. Javert tries to ask why Madeleine let the friendship form in the first place but as he stands and walks towards the mayor it is a different question that leaves his mouth.  
  
"Did he kiss you?"  
  
When the mayor turns and shakes his head, a breath Javert did not realise he was holding releases itself. Madeleine is very close.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good," repeats Madeleine in a whisper, though Javert is not sure if he actually hears it.  
  
And then Javert is sure. He is sure because suddenly there are lips pressing against his and a hand upon his chest and the room is very warm. The kiss is inexperienced, tentative, but when Javert tilts his head just so, Madeleine seems to melt into the angle and gain confidence. It is Javert that pulls away first.  
  
"M'sieur," he starts. He cannot think of what else to say. "You are—"

Madeleine is smiling. Not widely, but genuinely and hopefully and nervously all at once.  
  
"—very foolish," Javert finishes.  
  
And then the smile is wide, and Javert kisses it.

 

* * *

 

It is a few days later that Javert notices Vallière's bottle of wine is missing from the mayor's desk. When he asks about it, Madeleine colours slightly and mutters something about letting it mature.  
   
It is a small, sweet victory.

 

* * *

 


End file.
